The Stupid Bet and the Spare Spare Room
by Bones365
Summary: Ron and Hermione make a bet before their wedding. Who will end up with the spare room? Light and fluffy.


_A/N: Hey guys! Another Ron/Hermione fic. I hope you're not getting bored with them, but I feel particularly inspired. If you've read the Angel Girl stories, this kinda goes with it, at least the loft does. So if you could imagine that description, you should be good to go!_

_I don't own anything, Miss Rowling does, and we're all just so grateful for her!_

Ron was asleep. Though, maybe, not completely? Because while his body was resting, his eyes were closed, and his mind deep in a REM cycle, he was painfully aware of two things.

One was that, while he was ecstatic about what would happen tomorrow, he was sure he'd screw it up somehow. Even his subconscious was replaying dreams in his head of various scenarios in which he ripped his suit, or forgot what time the ceremony was, or slept right through till Monday.

The second, vastly more important thing that Ron was painfully aware of, was that Hermione was not next to him. And he didn't even need his subconscious to tell him that. He was much more restless than usual, waking every hour or so. He tossed and turned in his sleep, constantly reaching to his left for the body of his soon-to-be wife.

But no, due to some horrible, completely arbitrary rule, the bride and groom couldn't see each other on the day of the wedding. This had infuriated Ron as soon as he'd realized Hermione was planning on not sleeping in their flat the night before they got married. It had been a major argument.

"Bloody Hell, Hermione! After everything we've been through, you still believe in luck?" She'd huffed her bangs out of her eyes and widened her stance, preparing for the fight.

"Ron, it's tradition. I believe in traditions. And so what if I believe in luck? I have to believe in something."

"So believe in sleeping in your own bed the night before you get married!" Ron was leaning forward a bit. It was a familiar system. Next she would whip her head to the side and plant her hands on her hips. _AH!_ There it was.

"Ron, it's not about sleeping in my own bed. It's about a part of the wedding celebration that has been established since the sixteen hundreds! In goblin weddings, they don't see each other for a week before! Would you like that? Not being able to see me for a week before the wedding?!"

She'd leaned forward, too, affording Ron the loveliest look down the front of her shirt. But he hadn't taken too good a look. After all, they were in the middle of a row, and it's not like he hadn't seen what was down there before. Besides, he was too busy throwing back his head and laughing.

"Hermione, why threaten me with that? We both know you're not going to do it." He was baiting her, waiting for her to crack. If she would cave on this, he could wear her down, no problem. But suddenly there was a problem. She'd gone so still, cocking her head to the side and freezing like that. Ron narrowed his eyes. This was unexpected.

It was a move she usually pulled out only for serious fights, ones she wouldn't give in on. This was not a serious fight, so why was she…? He watched as she took a deep breath.

"We both know I'm not going to do it?" She asked in a dangerously low voice. "Really? Why's that?"

Ron arched his eyebrow. She had to be kidding, right?

"Hermione, the last time we spent more than a week apart was when I left during the war. Before that it was…like…" he flailed his arms around, searching far back in his head. "…like… third year! It's not possible. We can't do it." He placed his hands on his hips, too, daring her to challenge him. Everyone knew how close they were. Ron truly believed that they would go crazy without each other within the first day.

"You don't believe I can do it?" she sounded vaguely threatening and scary, but Ron had learned by the age of twelve that Hermione was all bark and no bite.

"I don't believe _we_ can do it. There's a difference, Angel." Her face softened automatically when he used his nickname for her, but she still looked fierce.

"Fine." She straightened back up, looking triumphant. Ron's hands dropped to his sides.

"'Fine' what?" She smiled at him.

"Fine. A week before the wedding, we'll not see each other. Or talk to each other. Or write or patronus or any of that." Ron let out a startled sputter.

"What?! That…that makes no sense! It's just a punishment for the sake of punishment. You don't want this either!" He pointed out, throwing his hands up, wondering if his fiancé had finally lost it. She smirked back at him.

"We'll make a bet out of it. Whoever cracks first, wins."

"Wins what?" his voice was flat, already not liking this bet at all.

"Wins…" she trailed off, searching for something they both wanted badly enough, "…the spare room!" her eyes snapped back to his suddenly.

"The spare…"

"The spare room! We've been arguing about what to do with it for ages. If I win, I can have my library, if you win you can have your…your…"

"My Man Room." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yes, that."

Ron sighed. It was an intriguing offer, one that had been a major sticking point for both of them. The room next to the "L" kitchen that made up one corner of their huge loft. He began nodding slowly.

"Deal." He said, trying not to wince at what he was going to do. And he _was_ going to do it. There was no way he'd give in first. He reached his hand across the few feet that separated them. She stepped forward, shaking his hand firmly in hers, looking satisfied.

"What happens if we make it all the way to the wedding?" she asked, trying to tug her hand away. Ron gripped tighter, drawing her in closer to him until he was inches away from her.

"Then we get to have really, really great honeymoon sex." He whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. After that, and after he'd dragged her up the stairs to the bed, they'd been much too preoccupied to discuss their bet.

After that, the weeks had flown by. Planning a wedding was tiresome, and for Ron, it was downright painful. There were fittings for his suit, lectures from his mother about proper marital behavior, lectures from his father about proper husband behavior, and there were so many appointments.

Appointments with the caterers, the florists, and the tailors. There were appointments with the chair and table people, not to be confused with the chair and table _cloth_ people, who had an appointment all their own. There were appointments with the invitation people, which were so very different from the place-card and menu people. There were appointments with the dressmakers (which Ron was not allowed to go to), and appointments with the cake people (which Ron was definitely, thankfully, able to go to).

Ron felt like he'd blinked, and suddenly he was sitting on the bed, watching Hermione stuff a week's worth of clothes into a suitcase. He frowned as he watched her, trying to occupy his hands by fidgeting with a throw pillow.

"You know you can back out now, if you'd like. No consequences…" he trailed off enticingly, but Hermione shook her head as she crammed her toothbrush into a side pocket.

"Ron, we made a bet. I plan to follow through." She paused zipping the bag, looking up at him through her lashes, "Unless you want to relinquish the extra room now. That would be fine. You could have me for another six days." He shook his head as he stood up, tossing the pillow back onto the bed. He reached out his hands and tugged her waist so that she was pressed against him.

"Despite this stupid bet, I _will_ miss you, Angel." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned down to press his lips to hers. She hummed against him.

"Me, too." She rose up on her toes to steal one last kiss before grabbing her bag off the bed. She had almost made it across the little balcony that was their bedroom before turning back.

"But, I _will_ win this." She challenged, then disappeared down the stairs and through the fireplace to Ginny's. Ron sighed and flopped down on the bed, wondering what he was going to do for an entire week.

oOo

The first few days had been fine. There had been a few times he'd wanted to share some news or had seen something that reminded him of a specific joke they had, but he'd pushed the feelings down.

"Really, mate, it's a lot easier than I thought it'd be." He told Harry over butterbeers. "The only thing is that I hate sleeping alone, but after I'm out, I don't really care, you know?" He stopped himself from telling Harry that waking up without Hermione in bed with him was exactly as bad as he'd thought it'd be.

Harry reached forward to click his bottle against Ron's.

"Good for you, mate. But I have to tell you, she's doing pretty well, too. And she's really determined to win this." Harry took a swig of his drink. "I never noticed how bloody competitive she was, I guess." Ron snorted.

"Of course she is! Do you remember how jealous she was when you were doing so much better than her at potions sixth year? She just hides it well." He tried to look nonchalant as he spun a bottle cap on the scarred table. "So…You've seen her lately?" Harry quirked an eyebrow.

"You mean since two days ago when you saw her? Yeah. She had dinner with Ginny and me yesterday. She's been at my place a lot, too."

"Your place?"

"Mmm Hmm. I think she's been a bit twitchy." Ron smiled. He knew how she was feeling. He hadn't realized before just how much of his life was taken up by Hermione Granger. He certainly did now. It stared him in the face in the morning, when he came home from work, when he cooked dinner, listened to the wireless… Last night, he'd sat on the couch for an hour, just trying to decide how to fill his time. Ron shook his head.

"Yeah. But mostly that's just boredom. I think we can do this just fine." Ron said, finishing off his bottle and waving the waitress over for another.

Ron was wrong. It was halfway through day four when he really felt it. Thursdays were the days they had lunch together. Ron sat at his desk and stared at his sandwich, which just looked very unappealing to him for some reason. He hadn't remembered the place Hermione usually got the sandwiches from, so he'd had to settle for the coffee shop around the corner. The lumpy paper looked so subpar. He'd gone home early.

But when he got there, he'd been assaulted by the sight of the empty couch. You wouldn't think that such a thing as a couch would effect him so deeply, but it had. He'd had a flash of what Hermione'd looked like curled up on the end reading, and his stomach had clenched tightly. His eyes had snapped to the large windows, and had taken in all the plants she'd put there and cared for.

On the table was one of her magazines, in the kitchen was her coffee maker, because she said his didn't make it right. Along the entire wall to his left were huge floor to ceiling bookshelves, completely made up of her book collection.

Ron sighed and pulled his jacket back on, going out for a walk and some dinner before he drove himself insane.

But outside, he saw her favorite Chinese restaurant, and the park she jogged in, and the place where she bought an excessive amount of shoes, her favorite bookstore, the market she bought new plants at, the place she'd taken him the first time they'd gone grocery shopping together.

Ron felt suddenly like he needed blinders just to walk around the neighborhood. After getting some food at their favorite Indian restaurant (the owner had asked him where Hermione was), he trudged back to the loft, trying to look at the smallest amount of his surroundings possible. Walking up the stairs and rounding the corner, he blinked when he saw his apartment door ajar.

A slow smile spread across his face.

She'd given in first and, honestly, he was so thankful. He rushed in, wanting so badly to see her, hold her, look at her, but his face fell when he saw who was really in his apartment.

"Wow, look at that face! I'm glad you're so excited to see me. Try not to knock me over with your enthusiasm." Ginny teased, turning back to the bookshelves and picking up a novel before throwing it into a bag behind her. Ron sighed.

"Sorry, Gin. Hi. Uh…What are you doing?" he asked, taking the food out of the bag and spreading it over the counter.

"Hermione asked me to come over and get some books for her. She's restless today." Ginny turned, throwing the last book into the bag and looking accusingly at Ron.

"What? It was her idea. I'm just an innocent bystander." He waved his fork in surrender, watching her lug the bag to the table, then cross to the counter where he was putting bread onto a plate. Ginny frowned.

"There was one more book she asked me to get. I should have written it down…" Ginny squinted up at the ceiling, trying to remember.

"What did she ask you for?" Ron asked around a mouthful of curry. Ginny sighed and plopped down on a stool in front of him.

"Let's see, she wanted Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, Hogwarts: A History, that new book about the dragon colonies in India, and…one more. What was it?" She clicked her nails on the counter, watching Ron eat and waiting for the answer to come. Ron held up a finger and walked across the room to the coffee table. He picked up a giant book laying there and crossed back, handing it to Ginny and picking his fork back up. She snapped her fingers.

"The book about the goblin wars! How'd you know?" Ron swallowed before answering.

"She wants fun books, not serious ones. She's just bored. She picks that one up every once and a while when she doesn't have anything else to do." He stuffed a hunk of bread into his mouth making Ginny laugh.

"Slow down, Ron. The food's not going anywhere." She said.

"For your information, I skipped lunch today because I couldn't remember where I get my sandwiches from." Ginny laughed, hefting the book onto the counter, raising her eyebrows at it.

"_This_ is fun reading for her?" Ron smiled back at her.

"I never said it was normal, it's just what she does. She's trying to go slowly through that one cause she likes it so much."

"Slowly? What is it, eight hundred pages? She could be reading this for a month and still have more."

"Ginny, you're talking about Hermione. I've seen her read a six hundred page textbook in thirty-six hours." He smiled at the memory. "She didn't sleep."

"So, where's this from? Curry Dragon?" she asked, picking up the paper bag Ron had abandoned on the counter.

"Yeah. Do you know it?" Ginny shook her head.

"Hermione wanted it for dinner. I have to go pick it up for her since she was worried she'd see you." Ron smiled again.

"Thursday's curry night. Here." He picked up half of a piece of fluffy bread, wrapping it back in wax paper. "She can't eat a whole one on her own. Give her this one. It's her favorite." Ginny arched her eyebrow at him. Ron stared back. Finally, Ginny chuckled and grabbed the bread before sliding off the stool.

"You know, you two are perfect for each other. You're crazy to be doing this bet. She told me to give this to you." Ginny reached into the bag on the table and tossed something lumpy and paper-covered to Ron. Looking down, he identified it as his favorite sandwich Hermione always brought him on Thursdays.

"She said you probably hadn't had lunch, so you could take this one tomorrow." Ginny grinned and shook her head, watching her brother's face. He was so damned happy over a stupid sandwich. And she knew that in about ten minutes, she'd get to watch Hermione look the exact same way over a stupid piece of bread.

Ginny grunted as she pulled the bag full of books over her shoulder, headed towards the fireplace.

"Good night, Ron." She called over her shoulder, hearing him yell a belated "night!" as she swirled through the flames.

Ron had stood at his kitchen counter, cradling the sandwich, for ten minutes before he'd snapped himself out of his trance. He sighed when he thought of going to bed, knowing it would be cold and uninviting without Hermione. He ran his fingers over the paper covering the sandwich before placing it in the refrigerator, knowing that her fingers had touched it not long ago.

He sighed and resigned himself to a long couple of days. And things only got worse until, finally, Ron found himself here, in this horrible little half-sleep he had going.

Every few minutes, his ears would prick up, hearing the scrape of a branch in the window, or the pop of the old wood floors downstairs. Even in the middle of sleeping, his body was waiting for her to come home. Inside his eyelids, dream Hermione slapped him across the face and told him she never wanted to see him again. Ron groaned in his conscious _and_ unconscious states.

He groaned so loudly that he almost missed the small _snick_ that sounded downstairs. Suddenly, he was completely awake, propping himself onto his elbows. He waited a second before he heard the brush of feet across the living room rug, then the soft _pat, pat_ of bare feet on the wood floors, then the stairs, then…

Ron stared as Hermione stopped at the side of the bed. Her side of the bed, the farthest from him. She looked angry and indecisive at the same time. They stared at each other silently for several moments until finally, she sighed and flopped onto the bed, burying her face into her pillow.

"I give up." She groaned, obviously upset. Ron didn't completely understand why this was so upsetting. He was the happiest he'd been since his lips had last been on hers. He'd missed her so much, but he didn't say anything. He let a smile begin to play across his lips.

"You give up?" He kept his tone light and rolled to his side, putting his weight on his elbow so he would have a better view of her face. She groaned and rolled onto her side as well, facing him.

"Yes. Yes, I quit, you horrible man. _You_ can have the spare room. _You_ can gloat for the rest of your life. _You_ can see me the day of our wedding and potentially ruin it. _I_ don't care. I don't care that you'll turn the room into a stupid quidditch shrine. I don't care that I'll have to sit in silence for years to come while you tell the horrible story about how I couldn't even make it through and _entire, bloody week_ without you. I don't care that one day we'll get completely sick of each other and our marriage will fail. And I _certainly_ don't care that I'm not good enough to be a goblin bride. _I don't care!_"

She stared back at him defiantly and he was silent until he was sure she'd gotten it all out. Finally, he reached across the space between them and pulled her body closer to his.

"I'm planning on turning it into a Man Room, not a quidditch shrine. And, honestly, I'm quite glad you're not a goblin bride. Merlin knows I had enough chances to marry one of those. I'm quite happy with a witch bride, instead." Hermione snorted and pressed her face into his chest. "And with the whole seeing each other thing? I don't really think it's going to ruin our marriage. I don't think you do either. Because, Angel, when it comes down to it, we couldn't even make it a week without each other. Seeing you before we're in front of a priest isn't going to change that."

He hugged her closer and kissed the top of her head.

"What about the gloating?" Her voice was muffled into his shirt. He frowned.

"What _about_ the gloating?" She tilted her head to look at him.

"Well you said something about everything I said, except how I think you're going to gloat forever about this."

"That's probably because I _will_ be gloating forever about this." She laughed and smacked his arm. Ron chuckled and brought the sheets up so that she could snuggle under them. He reached down to hook her leg around his hip and felt their feet tangle together. _This was better,_ he thought before allowing himself to drift.

"Ron?" Hermione asked just before he drifted off. He grumbled in response, hauling her closer, almost on top of him.

"Well, I just thought that after so long you'd want to…" she trailed off and Ron felt her fingers wander down his stomach towards the edge of his pants. He sighed and captured her hand before it could get any further.

"Angel, I would have thought that, too. Trust me. But I can't sleep at all without you. I've been tired since Monday." She smiled and pecked him on the cheek before she, too, drifted off to sleep.

oOo

Two months, a week, and six days later, Ron stood behind his wife with his hands over her eyes. They were in front of the spare room. She was grumpy.

"I don't understand why there has to be all this drama, Ron. It's _your_ Man Room. I'm never going to be in it seeing as _I_ am not a man."

"Excellent point, love. You most certainly aren't. That being said, I just want to show you how well the spare room will be taken care of. Don't you want it taken care of?" She huffed and he took it as a yes. Still keeping her eyes covered, he opened the door and led her to the middle of the room.

"Watch out for the stuffed dragon's head, Angel." He said, scooting her to the side a few inches. Hermione groaned and Ron laughed as he pulled his hands off her eyes. She kept them closed.

"I don't _want _to see your Man Room. I have no desire to have to see a stuffed dragon's head in the middle of what could have been a perfectly lovely library. It's painful." Ron slung his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"Come on, Angel. Please? For me?" He asked. She hesitated, then opened her eyes and gasped.

She had been right. It _was _a perfectly lovely library. All of the walls were crowded with rows and rows of books. Looking around, she saw many familiar titles, but as she walked, speechless, around the room and ran her finger over the spines, she knew there were new ones, too. New to her and just new in general. If she wasn't mistaken the entire left corner was taken up completely by perfectly kept first-editions.

Ron had painted the walls a warm honey color and picked out bright, squishy chairs and couches to place in the center of the room, surrounding a little stone fireplace he'd built to keep her feet warm in the winter. The wood floor was scattered with plush, richly colored rugs that muffled her footsteps and finished the cozy feel of her perfect library. Finally, she turned to her husband.

"But…but what about your Man Room? You wanted it so badly-"

"You wanted this more, I think. And besides…" He was reaching into his pocket and pulling out a set of keys she'd never seen, "This isn't all of it, Angel." He smiled and took her hand, walking her over to a door she hadn't noticed before. She stopped walking.

"You put another room in?" She asked, already knowing the answer. He shrugged, thumbing through the keys until he held two in his hand.

"They were doing some work next door, so I bought some space out. It's not that much, but it's enough." He smiled at her mysteriously, sticking one of the keys into the keyhole and swinging the door open for her to see.

While it wasn't exactly a quidditch shrine, it was very close. Chuddley Canons posters plastered the walls. An antique broom was hanging on a wall next to a picture of the old Gryffindor quidditch team. The furniture was leather and all of it was centered around the largest radio Hermione had ever seen. Hermione raised her eyebrows at Ron.

"No dragon head?" she asked sarcastically. He shook his head, closing the door.

"Charlie'd never let me. Besides, I like my Man Room as it is. It'll do for until I have to give it up." He locked the door and waited for her response. She didn't disappoint, but then again, she never did.

"What do you mean, give it up? You finally got your Man Room! And we got another room added to the loft! You'll never have to give it up." She told him, watching him twirl another key around his finger. He shook his head, smiling down at her and almost bouncing with excitement.

"There's one more thing I want to show you." He said. She eyed him warily, but nodded, not entirely sure what to expect. Hermione watched as he placed the key almost reverently into the keyhole, and swung the door open gently. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth.

It was a nursery.

The walls were painted the same soft yellow of her library. There was a crib and a rocking chair and a changing table and…he'd thought of everything. She walked inside, completely in awe of what her husband had done for her. For _them_.

He followed her, concerned by her silence.

"You don't have to worry. I'm not expecting kids right away, obviously. They're loads of bloody work. And we need time to settle. And…well you've only just got that promotion, so…uh…and we can change it, eventually, if we don't-" Hermione whirled around, a huge smile on her face.

"Don't you dare change our baby's room. It's perfect." Ron sighed in relief and reached out for Hermione, hugging her close. They stood there for a long time before Hermione spoke.

"To think. All this just because of some stupid bet. If we'd never done it, we'd never have gotten…" she shook her head, trying to name everything around her.

"The spare spare room." Ron supplied, and she smiled.

"Exactly. Without that stupid bet, we never would have gotten the spare spare room."

"Or the really, really great honeymoon sex."

"That, too." She agreed, tilting her head back so he could kiss her in their spare spare room.

_A/N: Hope you guys liked it! As for me, I always like reviews…_


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